


Let Your Fields Burn

by chinarai



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: AU, Canon Divergence, F/M, Royai - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 12:32:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13007847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinarai/pseuds/chinarai
Summary: Connected as they are, it is hard not to fall. iii: Firecracker:  She thinks it’s a little sad that her first encounter with a man after so long of being single has to be this way, but her body is soaking up his attention like a sponge – and soaking other things as well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a very long time since I've thought about royai or fma as a whole, honestly, and for the past week or so I've been in such a mood. I started rewatching the 2003 anime recently and will move on to Brotherhood later. I searched my files for any fanfic I had written that was not Convivencia, because that one needs attention and I've neglected it for what? two years?, and I found this little draft written.
> 
> I quickly reviewed it, but to be fair, I don't remember much about what happened in the end of the first series and its movie. I have like two other ideas maybe, but if any of you are interested in anything, please, do tell me! 
> 
> Title from What You Wanted by OneRepublic, which is included in a fanmix I made long ago that shares the same name. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> **FMA03 Verse:**  
>  _snow_

Cold.

That was the only thing her poor mind could register. The wind against her face, harsh as it touched and burned her skin, her chattering teeth and trembling limbs, her aching bones and nearly frozen joints. She pulled the scarf up to her nose and dug her hands deeper into the pockets, an attempt to conserve the little warmth she had left as the gloves did little to protect her skin from the biting chill. There wasn’t much difference between summer and winter up north; everything was always white, burning the corneas of whoever looked at all the snow that covered the fields whenever the sun decided to shine through the thick grey clouds overhead. Blizzards occurred more often during the winter; this was the only difference.

Her eyes gazed up at the sky, distress showing through her usual composed expression; while Lieutenant Hawkeye enjoyed the cold, this was a bit too much.

Still she walked more, more and more, and a little bit more until she could swear she had walked through half of this frozen territory, and finally, true to her friends’ words, the wooden cabin stood tall just after the next hill, roof covered with snow and windows shaking with the force of the wind. She pushed onward, the cold white covering up to her knees, but still she did not back down.

Hawkeye slipped her hands out of her pockets, ignored her own mind’s protests and pleas to protect her fingers from the cold, and knocked as loudly as she could without letting her urgency show.

What a terrible, terrible place to be. She could only imagine how people managed to live in this area without feeling greatly bothered by the weather. She enjoyed places where you could tell the seasons apart, places where it wasn’t always constantly hot or constantly cold, places like Central, which was bathed by sunlight and caressed by warm breezes for six months then touched by rain and soft snow for the other six that remained. Truthfully, Central was the ideal place for her to live.

She knocked again; more quickly, more urgently, trying to ignore that she was slowly and surely freezing to death. She tried to take a peek inside, to make sure that he was home; if he wasn’t, then it was all for nothing and she would return to Central, most likely angry and hurt, but would still thank the heavens for the warm sun – that if she ever made it through all this snow again. Now while Riza Hawkeye wasn’t exactly a pessimist, she wasn’t an optimist either; she was realistic and practical, and wouldn’t have minded dying in snow covered mountains or scorching hot deserts were she put in any other circumstances. Dying while fighting for hers and other lives and for her country was something, dying alone without any means to fight the enemy was a completely different matter.

And what could she do against the cold wind that was roughly slapping her face?

Nothing.

So she leaned back against the door, sheltered under the small extension of the roof to protect her head, and crossed her arms tightly, pressed her lips together firmly, and waited for his return, counting in her head all the times when the wind howled exceptionally loud, like a feral beast protecting the mountains and its beings.

Eventually, she saw his approaching figure in the distance, logs clogged up in his arms, lifting his knees up to his waist as he tried to reach her at a faster pace. They barely made eye contact when he got closer to her; she silently picked some of the logs, he unlocked the door and ushered her inside, and warmth fell upon them like an old, comforting blanket.

* * *

There was a clock on his wall above the fireplace, as usual, and it ticked, loudly, as seconds passed by. Wind still howled outside, a mug filled with a warm beverage heated her palms, bringing color back to the tips of her fingers. Roy Mustang sat across from her on his armchair, cheek resting on his left fist and eye fixated on the flames in the fireplace; she knew that look all too well.

“What an honor to have you here, Lieutenant.”

He was sad, distressed and happy all at once. Sad that they met again like this, distressed because the demons and monsters that used to haunt him still won’t let him sleep peacefully, and happy that, despite the awkwardness that filled the air moments after he closed the door, she was there with him.

“It’s been a while, sir,” she resorted to say simply.

His head tilted down slightly, “Indeed.”

Riza looked away from him, directing her gaze at to fire that kept him so transfixed. Burnt matches lied forgotten by the fireplace, confirming what Havoc had said that the Flame Alchemist didn’t use alchemy anymore. Eyes narrowed, lips pressed down into a thin line before relaxing and taking the first tentative sip of coffee in what felt like years; he shouldn’t berate himself for things he couldn’t control. She understood his reasons for giving up his high-rank title and moving north away from everyone, but they were consuming him.

A little voice in her head screamed that he hadn’t corrected her when she called him sir, that he hadn’t told her he was a mere soldier, that he was now on a lower rank than her. She could easily boss him around and he wouldn’t have many choices beside obey her, yet something told her there was a reason as to why he was so silent, as to why he didn’t say that he was now her subordinate.

Aware of his lingering gaze on her, the lieutenant turned to face him, and in the split second in which she managed to catch his eye for the first time ever since she arrived, she saw, briefly, what was bothering him the most in that moment.

To put it simply, it was her.

Riza refused to believe her presence alone would make him this agitated, so she took her time to unfold and decipher all of the things hidden in that guarded eye of his. It didn’t take her too long, just another sip, a grimace, and about two minutes of staring at the fire licking at the logs, eating them away.

Of all things he could’ve said and done and felt, Roy felt like he had failed her and dragged her too far only to give up his place in the military and leave her in Central while he lived in these frozen mountains as an isolated soldier. Riza set her mug down on the stool placed between the couch and his armchair, a substitute for a coffee table that he would never get, and laced and unlaced her fingers, pressed her palms together or down on her thighs to avoid the shaking that was sure to come. He was allowing himself to live in a brief moment of illusion just so he could pretend that nothing had happened, that they were still general and lieutenant.

“I’m sorry.”

He still refused to meet her eyes and now watched the wind raging outside; she kept her gaze fixed on his face. “For what, sir?”

Almost imperceptibly, he winced, but nothing escaped those amber eyes that watched him. “For everything, I guess. For leaving, for holding you back for so long, for making you follow me.”

“It was your choice,” she referred to his first reason, all the others were her own choice and he knew that oh so, so well.

Roy combed his fingers through his bangs and pressed his digits lightly over the eyepatch covering his scarred eye. “I can’t say I regret leaving, but...”

His palm fell onto his lap as the woman before him reached for her nearly cold coffee and she sipped it as if it was her favorite drink. He smiled, lips tilting up sadly; had he known she would stop by he would have left to get her some tea or something that she actually liked. Coffee was not exactly what she would have preferred in a situation like this and there was not a single drop of milk so she could have her coffee with it or even have it alone. Maybe he was the worst host of all times.

“You do.” One black iris lifted up to take her expression in, that soft smile touching her lips and lightning up her face, soft and discreet and absolutely his. “I know you hate the cold.”

She couldn’t be any more right, so he chuckled and wove his fingers through his hair, slumped shoulders straightened as he leaned back and sat up properly as the general he once was, proud to serve the nation and its people. Riza didn’t say anything else; she merely looked down at her lap as she let out a huff of laughter and cupped the mug with both hands. The fire cracked, stretched up and onto the logs, roared meekly as opposed to the fire the man before her could control and release at will. Mug back on the stool, palms on the soft couch, her mind reeled back and forth, trying to find ways to drag him out of his own self imposed misery.

Roy watched her intently; every shift, every breath, nothing escaped his hungry gaze. Fearing she was just a creation of his mind, the soldier kept staring as if she could disappear at any moment, leaving him alone in his small frozen cabin. Her presence didn’t bring any warmth to the place, but it cradled his heart gently and soothed it, shooed away his fears and insecurities, lifted off the heavy air of loneliness and sadness that had long settled in his new modest home. She brought comfort and quenched his longing to see her, to talk and interact and sit with her, just the two of them and piles of paperwork due the next week.

Amber eyes glanced away from the flames, swept across the room and caught his burning, intense stare, and held it, unwavering, like they had done many times before. He could feel his lungs stop working, keeping toxic air in as he held his breath when their eyes met, fingers curling around the thick fabric of his pants and he held still, like a child who had been caught stealing cookies from the jar placed on the top shelf. The orange light glinted in her orbs, melted them away as if they were golden stones that pooled and swirled, mixed with her accumulating tears and deep feelings of devotion.

Quick like a lioness, she moved forward and he followed suit, meeting in the middle and wrapping arms around the other’s form in that embrace they were dying to share. He could feel the pressure of her cheek against the covered skin of his face, her hands fisting his coat and the shuddering breath that escaped her parted lips and caressed his ear. Roy tightened his hold on her and hid his face in the crook of her neck. Such proximity was frowned upon in the military, but hidden away from everyone else, they gave in, allowed themselves this indulgence.

Oh, how he had missed her...


	2. ii: Shave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'd like to tell you that I've got a sideblog for fma work only. It's _mustangsan_ , and there you'll find the latest fanmix I've made. I'm still debating if I'll reblog other things there or keep it only for things I do, but I guess that's irrelevant lmao
> 
> Anyways, if you've got any request, feel free to send it to me. The ideas I've had and liked most so far can be much more than a simple oneshot, so I'm saving them for later.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
>  **FMA03 Verse** : snow
> 
>  **FMAB/Manga Verse** : _shave_

Roy was adapting well to the loss of sight, Riza thought as she touched the bandage around her neck gently, even if he was going to get it back in a matter of days. He did most things by himself, although it took him a little longer than usual to finish a shower or his meal mostly due to the stitches on his hands. He did rely on her, though, to read the newspaper to him and to inform the time of the day and its weather. Roy talked a lot, hummed along to songs playing on the radio and listened intently to the news, and usually sat by the windows to feel some sunshine on his skin whenever light made its way inside their shared hospital room.

The deal Doctor Marcoh offered to get his eyesight back was one he could not and would not refuse, and even so, he had put Jean Havoc before himself to have him healed first. He was aware that something could happen and he could never see again, and yet he chose his blindness over letting Jean forever confined to a wheelchair. Sometimes, people did not give Mustang the credit he deserved, but then again, he acted too much like a self-absorbed jerk to give people the chance to see what lied beneath.

“Lieutenant.” Her hand dropped to her lap and she directed her gaze to the door connected to the adjoining bathroom. Roy had a palm on the doorframe and was staring intently in her general direction. “Can you help me out?”

Riza was familiar with his sporadic requests. She did not know if it was his pride, his stubbornness (or something else entirely) that made him try incessantly to get something done before he either caved in and asked for help or she stepped in before he could do something stupid. Sometimes Roy knew better than to try to peel an apple on his own and slice his thumb multiple times. Sometimes.

She replied verbally to his question and carefully made her way to the edge of the bed, slipping her feet into fluffy shoes Rebecca brought her a little while ago, and walked to join him in the bathroom. Roy stepped back when her footsteps got a little louder and carefully shuffled over to the sink. Riza took note of his inside out shirt and slightly damp hair, before shrugging it off and turning her attention to where he had wandered off. Her commanding officer did not need to explain himself; the objects on the granite counter made it easy for her to know what he wanted, and the way he kept rubbing his chin the night before was another dead giveaway. She made a little noise of amusement as she picked up the straight razor, and he let out a breathless chuckle as he scratched the back of his neck, stopping to finger the tag of his shirt momentarily.

Wordlessly, Roy lowered the lid of the toilet seat and sat down upon it as she prepared the shaving cream. She applied it to his face with a short, stubby brush and tested the sharpness of the blade on the back of her fingernail. Riza pretended not to hear him breathe in deeply when she guided his head in the correct direction so she could start shaving the growing beard by his jawline.

She had always known the Colonel had good looks, but lately thanks to being allowed to spend some time alone with him for the first time in so long, Riza had plenty of time to relearn to admire his features even if it made her feel like she was doing something wrong. The no fraternization policy made it clear that two people in the military should not pursue a relationship, but it did not mean that she could not appreciate the looks of the people around her. And Riza was lucky enough that she got to shave his face and run her fingers along that sharp jaw of his that she found extremely handsome under the guise that she was simply checking her handiwork.

Riza cleaned the blade on a damp towel and frowned slightly. The wrongness she felt in checking him out usually walked hand in hand with a fluttering feeling that occasionally made itself known in her chest and caused her to question herself. There was no doubt in her head that he cared for her just as much as she cared for him, but she did wonder if she liked him a little too much. It could be possible, she knew, but it was hard to dwell on it when she had known him for most of her life _and_ he was her superior. That is where the no fraternization law came in, stopping her from pondering too much about something that she could never even pursue anyway.

Although, the sniper confessed that she would like to know the truth if only to find out the real reason why her heart seemed to be palpitating around him far too much since the Promised Day, which was when exactly she began to notice this. It could have been happening for years now and she had never known.

Roy’s fingers squeezed her hips lightly – really, when had he put his hands there? – and effectively snapped her out of her reverie. “Lieutenant?” His eyes were closed and his brows were lightly pinched to indicate his concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, sir.” She thanked the heavens that her voice came out strong and steady enough so he would not suspect that her mind had wandered too far. Quickly, she resumed her task, hoping he would not ask anything regarding that.

He did not, but he did keep his hands on her even as she was close to finishing her job, and Riza found it a little hard to breathe in the bathroom. This was why she would rather not think too much about this lest she got too distracted to do her job as his bodyguard and things blew up in her face. She would rather ignore her confusion and perform her job as seamlessly as usual.

Riza wiped his face with another damp towel and set it aside so it could be taken away to be washed, and tidied up the counter, putting everything away where they belonged so Roy could easily find them later should he need. His hands hovered in the air for a moment after she stepped away before he brought one of them to his face to feel the smooth skin. With a thanks, he let himself be guided by her back to his bed and settled down on the mattress with a soft sigh.

Roy reached out for her and she waited, letting him graze his fingers on the base of her neck and feel the bandage there. She stepped closer, allowing him grasp her shoulder. “How’s your neck?”

“A little tender, but fine.” Riza answered in a softer tone than usual, barely feeling as his fingertips traced up a path from her shoulder to her face.

He hummed and pressed his digits to her chin, trailing them up the softer curve of her jaw. “It’s a good thing I can understand your silence and the intonation of your voice. After so long of seeing your face nearly every day, it feels out of place to hear you, but not see you.”

She made a little amused noise and tried not to shiver as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Are you saying you miss my face, sir?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.” He replied without hesitation, smirking slightly at the easy banter they fell into once again. “Why do you think I managed to survive all these years in the military?”

“I’d think your goal to be führer was the reason.”

“That too, but not as much as you.” His fingers touched her mouth and the little curve that twisted it in a smile faded in favor of letting her lips part. Roy traced over them slowly, feeling her hot breath fanning his skin, his now greyish eyes seeming so distant. “Lieutenant?”

She simply hummed to show she was listening, currently too busy controlling her breathing and refraining from licking her lips that suddenly felt much too dry.

“Can I feel you smile?”

His request was so unexpected that Riza immediately felt herself flush as she grinned embarrassedly, ducking her head to hide her face even though the only other occupant of the room could not see her blushing skin. It seemed, though, that Roy felt its warmth, and judging by the chuckle that accompanied her action, he knew exactly what his words had done. Riza had no doubt that if she looked up, he would be smirking victoriously or looking positively smug, so she settled for leaning into the hand that cupped her cheek, allowing herself to enjoy the moment.


	3. iii: Firecracker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Happy Valentine's! This is my little gift to you. It's actually one of the things I mentioned I wanted to develop into a multi-chap, but I haven't written much more than this. Also, I've been wondering if I should participate in royai smut week, but idk if I can write seven different smut scenes askjhaslkfja
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
>  **FMA03 Verse** : snow
> 
>  **FMAB/Manga Verse** : shave
> 
>  **Firecracker AU** : _firecracker_

Riza closes the door of the cab and glances at the building before her. Her hand barely lowers to her side and the car is already speeding away from view, not that she’s paying attention to it. As far as she knew from bits of passing conversations, Madam Christmas’s Bar is as nondescript as a building can get. An illuminated sign and a menu board let people know that the single door leads to the place where men can be entertained by pretty women with coy smiles and low necklines. This building with its neon lights is a far cry from the mental picture she had of a place she never attended in her life.

Up the stairs she goes. The person behind the counter checks her ID, takes her fingerprint and name and saves them in their database in case she returns some other night. She doesn’t think she will. A card is given to her to keep track of what she consumes so she can pay for it when it’s time to leave, although today is an open bar kind of night, and security checks her for any possible weapon she could be carrying. The first room she enters is the bar area, and the room next to it is the dancefloor. The loud music reverberates inside the club and, thankfully, the flashing lights are located only in that area. The rest is foreign and dimly lit, and Riza tries to find her friend in the sea of people crowding the counter of the bar.

“Riza!” An arm wraps around her shoulders and she finds herself pressed against her best friend’s side. Rebecca’s voice is loud in her ears so she can hear her over the beat in the background. “I thought you’d gone home to change!”

She looks down at herself. Of course, she went home to change. She’d never show up to work like this. Her outfit of jeans and a strappy shirt isn’t as elaborate as Rebecca’s sparkling black dress, but it’s comfortable. And so are her flats. She knows that her friend will be complaining about her heels before the night is over.

Rebecca talks on and leads her to a more secluded area with some seats and another bar. Here Riza can hear her own thoughts and breathe a little easier since it’s less crowded and less hot. She starts the night by ordering herself a light drink and some water, and both women occupy a table near the end of the room.

“Sooo... What’s it like being the CEO’s new secretary?”

Riza sips her sweet drink and makes a face at the way Rebecca waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “It’s not very different from what I’ve been doing.”

“Lighten up!” She pats her hand quickly and downs half of her drink in one go. “We’re here to celebrate your new job! Yay!”

She nods her head and watches the pair that walks into that area. She was hired in the beginning of the week thanks to her throng of connections that ranged from her grandfather to previous bosses. Getting used to the new routine and the ways of Omega Corporation, a business focused in making electronic devices favored by all Amestrians, was much easier than getting used to her new boss. Mister Bradley at first glance was rigid and gruff, but actually had an odd sense of humor that rivaled her grandfather’s and this familiarity was the why she managed to keep up with it somehow.

Rebecca’s plea to celebrate was the sole reason why she’d ventured outside on a Friday night when she should’ve been relaxing and then preparing for her first meeting on Monday. Riza decided to humor her this one time, and the easy conversation they have going for a while makes her forget that she’s in a club in the first place. The watch on her wrist reads that it’s already nearing midnight when she changes the topic of their conversation.

“I thought Madam Christmas’s Bar was a place for old men.”

Her friend laughs behind her third – or is it fourth? – glass of bone dry martini. She’s lost count of how many drinks she’s consumed in total, trying to taste everything on the menu. Her cheeks are so red Riza wonders why they’re not aflame yet. “Girl, her brand’s now a chain. This one’s the coolest place.” Already, she is dragging out every s letter she speaks.

“Is this the one place you said there are drag shows?”

“Yeeeah! Ya actually pay attention t’what – What I say.” Rebecca looks down at the empty glass and clicks her tongue. One more drink and she won’t be capable of coherent speech. Knowing this, she pushes it away from her snatches Riza’s bottle of water. “Tonight’s show starts a bit. We should goooo.”

Riza concedes. She’s already here, so she might as well see one of those live. Rebecca warns her that the show is different tonight and latches on her wrist to guide her through the people crowding the entrance hall/first bar she came across until they’re in the dancefloor. There are less people here, surprisingly, and she notices that there are as many men as there are women.

They stop by the foot of the stage set in the end of the room. “Shouldn’t we be a little farther to better see it?”

Rebecca chuckles and pats her shoulder softly in a way that implies she’s naïve and innocent. “No, no. You’ll want to be right here.”

She doesn’t question it, but a gut feeling tells her that there’s something Rebecca isn’t saying, which happens more frequently than she likes to admit. The music dies down as more people stream into the room. A person she cannot see announces that the dancer of the night is _Firecracker_ and the chanting of those present can easily rival the volume of the songs that had been playing. Slowly, the black curtains are drawn open as fog takes over the entire stage, the bright yellow and red lights dancing above revealing the contour of a person.

When the smoke dissipates, Riza nearly falls over.

“A go go dancer!?” She screams as a heavy bass song starts playing and Rebecca _loses it_ beside her, throwing her head back to cackle. “Rebecca!”

“Enjoy the show, girl!”

Riza turns away from her friend and tries not to look at the man on stage, which, she hates to admit, is very handsome. He uses a hideous, glittery mask to hide half of his face, but the rippling muscles of his arms and abdomen that he reveals when he slowly peels away the fireman jacket have her biting the inside of her cheek. People are cheering and hooting, and the man keeps a smirk on his lips as he moves his hips and runs a hand down his stomach and past his crotch.

She has to be the one person that’s not jumping up and down in the entire club as he performs, slowly feeling her throat going dry despite all the water she drank that night. For a moment, he turns in her direction and she thinks his gaze is on her, but quickly wipes out the idea. It’s impossible. There has to be at least a hundred people in here, it’s impossible that he’s looking specifically at her.

“Yeah! Go, Riza, go!”

Before she knows it, people are pushing her closer to the stage, towards his stretched hand. Rebecca is the one that raises her arm so he can take her up there, and she freezes as his arms wrap around her. She’s going to faint, she can feel it. Her face has to be impossibly red and soon her heart will shoot straight out of her chest. The man lifts her off the ground and, instinctively, she wraps her legs around him, hands gripping his shoulders both firmly and nervously.

“Hey, gorgeous.” She barely hears his voice, but can feel it rumbling against her chest.

“H-Hi.”

She can see his eyes from this close, black as his hair, but their shape and further details are lost. He seems to find a little humor in her answer because he chuckles against the crook of her neck and she jolts in place, bucking her hips against his.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” His whisper in her ear sends shivers down her spine and she tries to shake her head.

“No, I – No.”

He carries her around the stage and then lowers himself to the ground. The hold he has on her hips is strong enough that she likes it, and Riza finds herself mortified at that realization. He drives his hips into hers, and her manicured nails dig into his shoulders. She tries to look anywhere else but the man above her, gritting her teeth so hard it hurts, nearly biting her tongue when her body starts responding to his ministrations. She thinks it’s a little sad that her first encounter with a man after so long of being single has to be this way, but her body is soaking up his attention like a sponge – and soaking other things as well.

In her attempt to distract herself, she catches his gaze. His smirk is gone, jaw slackened, and she can’t read the expression on his face. The lights change to a strobe and more fog rolls around them; she prays the setting will stay like that.

“Do you always do this to your clients?”

He smirks at the gasp he elicits from her and brushes his lips on her ear. “I’m a go go dancer, not a prostitute.” The last word is stressed with a forceful thrust of his hips that makes her wrap her arms around his neck. She wants to apologize, but can only moan brokenly when she opens her mouth. Riza shuts it instantly. “What is it about you that makes me wish I was in that line of work, though?”

Taking a deep breath, she tries to speak again. “What... About the people?”

Firecracker glances at the crowd hooting and cheering before pinning her wrists on either side of her head. “It’s open bar night; you are the only sober person in here. Also, phones are prohibited.” The tips of his black hair tickle her forehead and she is looking right into his eyes now. “Do you want me to stop?”

Her logical side of her brain tells her to say yes. “Hell no.” She’s too wound up to stop now, and the strobe and fog added to the drinks everyone had hide her identity pretty well. The flashing lights make it seem as if he’s teasing her, barely touching her, when in reality she can feel every bit of him pressing against the juncture of her thighs. Her mouth seem to both water and dry at the same time.

His chest rumbles against her and his warm, wet tongue traces a straight line on her neck. Riza shivers and arches her back, the only thing she can do when he has her so deliciously pinned to the stage floor. “I wish we had nothing between us right now.” This time, she can hear him clearly, the deep timbre, the sultry undertone. A body that seems sculpted by hand, an alluring voice. Is this man even real? “You must taste so fucking good. Are you wet?”

“I’m aching.” Nails leaving marks in the palm of her hands, legs spread as wide as they can, Riza can only try to imagine how he would feel inside her. If this alone is driving her crazy, then the real thing will have her unraveling much faster.

“Fuck, yes.” His hands release her wrists, but quickly latch onto her hips again, forcing them to the ground. “I want to take my time, but we can’t.”

She nods. It’s understandable, and besides, she’s eager for the orgasm that’s building up. Her teeth nibble on the skin of his shoulder, nails scratching his back. Every moan is muffled in the curve of his neck, and she trudges closer to the edge every time she feels him applying that sweet, powerful, desperate pressure to her clothed clit. Her mind wanders, creating images of the two of them writhing in a bed, no clothes, no restrictions, his mouth on her breast, her hand on his ass. He takes her in every position she can think of, lets her dominate, dominates her instead, makes her beg, and teases her endlessly with his tongue and fingers.

When it hits her, Riza is moaning and sighing in his ear, tongue tracing the lobe afterwards as it is longs to call him by a name she doesn’t know. If his gasps and grunts indicate anything, is that he’s come as well, but he never stops moving, never stops to brush hair away from her face and kiss her tenderly as she is imagining him doing.

Her fingers tread through his locks dampened with sweat, wishing to follow that train of thought, but unsure if she can or should. Firecracker collects her in his arms and stands up once again to resume his show, and the crowd is shouting again. Hiding her face in the crook of his neck, she wants to say something. Ask his name, get his number, compliment him for being the best lover she ever had despite the limited way they had to explore each other’s body.

Lips ghosting over the side of her face, he sets her down and grips her hand firmly as he helps her return to the crowd, back to Rebecca that is reaching for her as a child does to a toy they really want. Riza feels as misplaced there as she had been when she first walked into the club that night. She watches him finish his show, tries not to stare too much at his crotch to see if there are any stains that give away what truly happened up there, and thinks he meets her eyes a couple of times. Before long, the lights in the stage are off and the curtains close again. This encounter will keep her awake for days to come.


End file.
